tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195003372024-03-06T21:03:18.666-08:00Ever in Joyful SongAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-59298401516426106472015-09-19T20:40:00.003-07:002015-09-19T20:40:35.669-07:00GumboI made gumbo for dinner tonight. As I helped Ianna stir the roux just so, I thought back to when I first learned to make it myself. I had an obsession for making things from scratch, and even though I grew up in the suburbs of New Orleans, I had never learned to make real gumbo. We had some friends over one afternoon, and they were talking about how good their mom's gumbo smelled cooking. When I applied to her for instructions to make it, she told me that what her kids were calling gumbo wasn't REAL gumbo. "My mom knows how to make it though," she said. "I'll call her."<br />
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So I got my gumbo-making information over the phone.<br />
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"How do we know when it's done?" I asked.<br />
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"Mom says it'll be the color of a dirty penny."<br />
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When I was explaining to Ianna how to know when the roux was done, I pulled a penny from my wallet. "See?" I told her, "that's now you know it's done."<br />
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After the roux was make she went back to her game with her sister, and I continued working on dinner. Every time I make gumbo, I think of one particular pot that I make about ten years ago. </div>
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It's kinda a long story, actually. </div>
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When I was a young teenager, I got to know the wife of a distant cousin, and found her to be something of an unlikely kindred spirit. She was about fifteen years older than me, and her oldest kids were a little younger than me. When I met her, she had five or six children. I'm pretty sure that we were the only ones in the family who didn't think that they were absolutely crazy, when the babies kept coming. For the last three babies, Robin and I, stayed with her to help during the last few weeks of pregnancy and keeping things running after the new baby. For baby number nine (I think) I was eighteen, and Robin was seventeen. They were in the middle of moving, and though they were still mostly living in Arlington, they were having the baby in Tyler. So, we arranged for Shane and Adondra to go stay in Tyler once it got down to "any minute now" time, and Robin and I stayed in Arlington with the other kids. All of them. </div>
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It need hardly be said that some family members were not impressed when they discovered that this was the arrangement. My cousin, who is almost my grandfather's age, and his wife drove from Tyler and dropped by one afternoon unannounced. I'm pretty sure they were expecting to find the disaster that two teenagers left in charge of more than a half a dozen kids would CLEARLY to in the middle of. </div>
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As it happened, the house was clean, the kids were happy, and dinner was cooking. It was gumbo. They were impressed. It was darn good gumbo, too. It would have been better if someone had told me that okra gets woody when it gets too big. The kids got tired of "woody gumbo" pretty quickly. But I digress.</div>
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I was thinking back to that day as I was cooking this afternoon. I was so pretty proud of us too that day. I felt more than equal to the thought of a house of my own and a gaggle of kids. Fast-forward ten years, to a house of my own and a couple of kids, and I feel anything but. If those same relatives had dropped by my house unannounced, they would not be impressed. I wondered what happened. I'm far more experienced now. Why can twenty-eight year old me not handle what eighteen year old me handled masterfully?<br />
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The first thing, I realized, was that I didn't do it alone. My sister, my fourteen year old cousin and I shared the job that I do myself now.<br />
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Secondly, those kids were already trained to help, and listen, and contribute to family life.<br /><br />Thirdly, I was only there for a few weeks. Even a month is a lot less long than "for the foreseeable future."<br /><br />And lastly, the house we were in was almost empty. They were in the process of moving, so only the absolute necessities were left in the house. And it was SO easy to keep up.<br /><br />Overall, I was encouraged to continue training my children, because eventually they will be more help than hindrance, and to not give up on my quest to get rid of the excess stuff in our lives. A have always admired Adondra, my amazing mother-of-eleven role model, but the longer I'm a mom, the more respect I have for the profound of time, energy and love she pours into her brood. When I grow up, I want to be as great of a mom as she is.<br />
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Which brings me full circle. To making gumbo with my little princess. I hope that she has gumbo stories of her own some day, and that making gumbo with her mommy and making sure the roux is the color of a dirty penny is one of them.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-36440270489999449352015-09-18T19:12:00.003-07:002015-09-18T19:12:49.357-07:00Dear Younger SelfHello Darling,<br />
I've been thinking about you for while now, and it occurs to me that I might be able to offer you some advice that could save you some grief.<br />
1. Be yourself. I know that advice is trumpeted from the rooftops... in theory. In reality, being not just like everyone else not very well regarded. That's okay. Embrace the things that make you who you are.<br />
2. That advice, however needs to be tempered. Different in and of itself isn't a virtue. Consider the person you aspire to be, and work toward becoming that person, but don't just shun what everyone else is doing just because everyone else is doing it.<br />
3. The above being said, lose the sunbonnet, at least it public. And the prairie dresses. Find a way to make your style jive with what people actually wear.<br />
4. You need friends, Dear One. It's much easier to be yourself if you have other people who like the person yourself really is. Perhaps you might even have things in common with them. "We both have a weird lifestyle" doesn't count as "things in common," in case you were thinking of using that as an out. Be on the lookout for kindred spirits.<br />
5. Learn to make decisions. Eenie, meeney, miney, mo. There, it's decided. Now move on.<br />
6. Know what you want. From life, from friendships, from romantic relationships. We can start with what you want for dinner. You won't always get what you want, but you will certainly never get it if you don't even know what "it" is.<br />
7. When you don't get what you want, move on. Don't fixate on something you can't have. Forget what is behind, and strive for what is ahead.<br />
8. Heartbreak and pain are some of the things that shape who you are, but they ARE NOT who you are. Some pain never goes away, and some broken things can't be fixed. It's tragic, and it's sad and it's wrong that things happen as they do sometimes, but God has enough grace to make something beautiful out of the most heartrending tragedies. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.<br />
8. Accordingly: Buck up, Buttercup. Everything wrong in your life, contrary to what you may have heard, isn't someone else's fault. And even if it is, there is nothing you can do about it. Sometimes life is just bumpy. This little thing we call sin nature has done a number on the world, and those around you (not to mention you, yourself) can be relied on the let you down. Your mood and your demeanor are your responsibility. Have a good cry, close your eyes for fifteen minutes, read some of your bible for a refresher of the doctrines of "God is God and I'm not," and "God is consistently reliable" and move on. Smile, do something you love, and decide to be happy.<br />
9. You know the old saying "Jack of all trades?" If you have forgotten, the rest of the line is "... and master of none." Master something. Pick one of the 500 things you are interested in and become actually skilled at one or two of them. Dabbleing is fine, but becoming just barely competent at everything you do isn't.<br />
10. On that note, PRACTICE. Play the piano for hours a day. Why not? GIVE ME ONE GOOD REASON! Sorry, I'm a little sore with you about this one.<br />11. Do math. You may not actually be good at it. Even if you're not, you've got to know it.<br />
13. Memorize copious amount of scripture. Read your bible and and study it, then read and study some more.<br />
12. There are wonderful, never-to-be-repeated things happening in your life <i>right now. </i>Savor them.<br />
13. When they are over, it's okay to miss them. But don't forget to revel in the new things.<br />
Finally, rejoice evermore, pray without ceasing, and in everything give thanks, for this is the will of God for you.<br />
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Affectionately,<br />
Your Twenty-Something, Happily Married, Mother-of-Littles, Busy, Tired, but Oh-So-Happy Self.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-32874809036127599162014-11-20T13:03:00.003-08:002014-11-20T13:03:43.473-08:00Tea Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Yesterday my girls wanted to have a tea party. They always have tea parties for birthdays and when they go to my grandparent's house, but I'm usually too busy at home. But I'm making an effort to take time to enjoy little things, so we dropped everything, make scones, and had tea. As it happened, I talked to my sister, and my niece was apparently also clamoring for a tea party, so she joined us. My girls like everything in life better when Selina joins the fun.</div>
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I discovered that our teatime manners are sorely lacking, so we'll have to make a point to have tea a couple of times a week and work on speaking softly, taking small bites and not rattling the china. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlmqPXS_Z9053xeXNmMomHi3TSvxGVUy_WCwC_BkBPTN9K1zeVSNt7oqt0IMO0muiOkXIj82naUg567F1umNChxtL5jSZvnwHXFtVMEFPLzkDgKNVi_qPJJsvdx85K1wOZyXux0w/s1600/DSC_0602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlmqPXS_Z9053xeXNmMomHi3TSvxGVUy_WCwC_BkBPTN9K1zeVSNt7oqt0IMO0muiOkXIj82naUg567F1umNChxtL5jSZvnwHXFtVMEFPLzkDgKNVi_qPJJsvdx85K1wOZyXux0w/s1600/DSC_0602.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't have any cookies of any kind, so we had to make scones.<br />I found <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/scones-recipe.html" target="_blank">this</a> delightful recipe from the Food Network, sans the currents. I don't like currents. <br />(Thank goodness for the Food Network website. Without it, we would subsist solely on tacos and spaghetti.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY8WbBD7N3n40fRGbSrAXYXOmjp_DJGpAP41GUO29a51gIfDC7L05cKbmHS_3ibKLSEWDquy7LhDHTTgEWmUgGuMdAYKvwJb4SZC7iOg4jDg4JSSD-p6AKTlO02QJuCgsQ4DYqMQ/s1600/DSC_0605.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY8WbBD7N3n40fRGbSrAXYXOmjp_DJGpAP41GUO29a51gIfDC7L05cKbmHS_3ibKLSEWDquy7LhDHTTgEWmUgGuMdAYKvwJb4SZC7iOg4jDg4JSSD-p6AKTlO02QJuCgsQ4DYqMQ/s1600/DSC_0605.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We took turns adding ingredients. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you bake- ever- and don't have a pastry cutter, get one. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBhabOWtlMXMuEarmvvCKHwnyb8fI4uvISUfdDA_P7IlPTCKKGMkM9S3HpORwHh4rZUWsLMeWUqtU0RC09fiPTzo0eJS9o_SC9dPPf-rqEetBPvC1UVoJ7zrzapAyr5EDJclrdTQ/s1600/DSC_0611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBhabOWtlMXMuEarmvvCKHwnyb8fI4uvISUfdDA_P7IlPTCKKGMkM9S3HpORwHh4rZUWsLMeWUqtU0RC09fiPTzo0eJS9o_SC9dPPf-rqEetBPvC1UVoJ7zrzapAyr5EDJclrdTQ/s1600/DSC_0611.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cutting in the butter us so much fun! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We didn't have cream, so we used whole milk. It worked.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We opted for wedge-shaped scones. Yummy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3r03ob5QAKeh_ysmSuXxUcSWEzJaSUUhlNAu0d5n2ikGJvyMM4LRC7z6zOKIajzGhITtzyrqOGh1bijk-P5paFkeYtuLmqp3BiLJ3EjKp2gsjr2TOjcQW_ApyBJUNdpdBLFxdBA/s1600/DSC_0622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3r03ob5QAKeh_ysmSuXxUcSWEzJaSUUhlNAu0d5n2ikGJvyMM4LRC7z6zOKIajzGhITtzyrqOGh1bijk-P5paFkeYtuLmqp3BiLJ3EjKp2gsjr2TOjcQW_ApyBJUNdpdBLFxdBA/s1600/DSC_0622.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Look, Aunt Rish, it looks like a crown!" <br />I love now little people find beauty in really simple things. <br /> </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9JO0Sgug5jykFZ3cfaz-VWdRdq01GpKCdoQ3zaImnnXS4BBJXbpXwD66QAZ1TwUT-FTwV1qxmg4R43V49yx71mm1QelYaRYSp6QhuiZS6n1J6fRxJHqTwAX421KMvXigoO_8xYA/s1600/DSC_0623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9JO0Sgug5jykFZ3cfaz-VWdRdq01GpKCdoQ3zaImnnXS4BBJXbpXwD66QAZ1TwUT-FTwV1qxmg4R43V49yx71mm1QelYaRYSp6QhuiZS6n1J6fRxJHqTwAX421KMvXigoO_8xYA/s1600/DSC_0623.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somewhere I read a suggestion for "poetry tea parties," where everyone brings a poem to share.<br />My kids brought Barenstien Bears and Fancy Nancy. I guess we need to work on poetry...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So yes, I still have laundry to do and dishes to wash. But my kids are growing up every time I turn around. So we'll take time for poetry and tea and dress-up. Because what is life without a little beauty?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-14705007926139264102014-11-16T19:55:00.000-08:002014-11-16T20:16:40.225-08:00The Creation of Adam<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ZYcNR48FqiKoWyqyl-IM3FhhN1KS2N8wPFaaSLh_1i9X2uQwtcisclwc75M7uNfZqPsLtNJ8t8jUb8NZP2HrHo0Idq9o9oXIf461kuJlDErcO1FBNiPly43J7U69iDYzWGAGMw/s1600/The+Creation+of+Adam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ZYcNR48FqiKoWyqyl-IM3FhhN1KS2N8wPFaaSLh_1i9X2uQwtcisclwc75M7uNfZqPsLtNJ8t8jUb8NZP2HrHo0Idq9o9oXIf461kuJlDErcO1FBNiPly43J7U69iDYzWGAGMw/s1600/The+Creation+of+Adam.jpg" height="142" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo Buonarroti </td></tr>
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<br />
The breath of God <o:p></o:p></div>
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That spoke swirling galaxies<o:p></o:p></div>
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And a myriad of stars <o:p></o:p></div>
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into the vast array of heaven,<o:p></o:p></div>
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breaths life into a form of dust<o:p></o:p></div>
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And infuses him with the Divine Spark. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The hand of God<o:p></o:p></div>
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Touching the hand of man<o:p></o:p></div>
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The angels watch with bated breath<o:p></o:p></div>
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As the Father of Heaven <o:p></o:p></div>
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Gives life to Adam, the father of earth<o:p></o:p></div>
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The image of God<o:p></o:p></div>
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The crowning achievement of creation<o:p></o:p></div>
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Gazing at his creator with trust and peace.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Unmarred and unashamed. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Looking at the face of God<o:p></o:p></div>
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With love<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-33214306595522323532014-11-16T00:16:00.002-08:002014-11-16T19:35:11.419-08:00Ballet Magnificat!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDGkniJwecCY1OkX37fZ0uIf4lgDK_DWF03bHMkRVxbra5Tg0Pe8P7JYlLWVKJhWFCv0Z2PKw62w0POnULBUFCMWxdM2SQxeXUw-G2QbpETWOyKvbPAIlmaOssVsGF9X_dtR87rQ/s1600/IMG_0425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDGkniJwecCY1OkX37fZ0uIf4lgDK_DWF03bHMkRVxbra5Tg0Pe8P7JYlLWVKJhWFCv0Z2PKw62w0POnULBUFCMWxdM2SQxeXUw-G2QbpETWOyKvbPAIlmaOssVsGF9X_dtR87rQ/s1600/IMG_0425.JPG" height="297" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My girlies, my neice and their friend <br />
on the first day of ballet classes this year. </td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
"You do WHAT? Seriously, you drive all that way? Why?"<br />
This is the response I tend to get when I casually mention that my kids go to ballet class two hours from home.<br />
<br />
I'm not gonna lie. Sometimes I have a similar conversation with myself. Tuesdays are long in our house. We leave the house about 9:30 and head to Jackson, where we have a round of violin lessons, and later in the afternoon, ballet classes. We get dinner at Cracker Barrel, and head home. We usually get back around 9:30 at night.<br />
<br />
I was once again reminded this evening. It's pretty simple: Ballet Magnificat.<br />
<br />
I mean, there are other factors. For example, there isn't a violin teacher for the girls in town. However there are teachers closer than Jackson. Why on earth would we choose to sacrifice the time and expense to drive a hundred additional miles round trip further than we have to?<br />
<br />
I usually tell a story to illistrate why my husband and I consider the drive worth it:<br />
<br />
It was a normal Thursday. The trainees were about to file out of one studio after bible study with bibles and devotional books in hand. We were a little early for Ianna's class, and so we were watching a few members of the touring company rehearse in the studio across the hall. The new ballet clearly dealt with temptation and it's allure. Two dancers were also watching, and were engrossed in conversation.<br />
<br />
"It's creepy, isn't it?" one of them said. "I mean, you want to think of sin as scary and ugly, but it's not."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, it's true." her friend replied. "But think about it; we don't have to live under sin. Christ has conquered it. We don't have to be ruled by it."<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLVwemTyceamHaVVYUNgjUwG5ahFyE8O072LXyBhBiz4RL1QGe5bUwA_BTT0iAYF8b9tLj89AOsCo-rOyb57518YznCtQJfK2F4FAC4CORMlCtqIfIU0KO8wKNHZ9kiC060I6OgA/s1600/IMG_0523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLVwemTyceamHaVVYUNgjUwG5ahFyE8O072LXyBhBiz4RL1QGe5bUwA_BTT0iAYF8b9tLj89AOsCo-rOyb57518YznCtQJfK2F4FAC4CORMlCtqIfIU0KO8wKNHZ9kiC060I6OgA/s1600/IMG_0523.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Margot is one of the young ladies who's conversation I<br />
happened to overhear. She's here with Ianna and<br />
Isaac, my nephew. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Now, these girls weren't tying to impress me with their deep observations or spiritual jargon. They weren't giving me a "I'm a Christian-ballerina-who-has-sound-theology" bit to convince me to send my kid to study there. They were just talking, And in case you were wondering, no, that's not the kind of thing you usually just happen to hear around a ballet studio.<br />
<br />
When you are talking about something irritating, you say "to add insult to injury", but what do you say when it's something impressive?<br />
<br />
"To add better to good?"<br />
<br />
I guess I'll go with that.<br />
<br />
To add better to good, they are all nice. Seriously. Dancers can be seriously snooty. World-class ballerinas aren't just lining up to have conversations with a five-year-old about her new baby brother like Kathy Thibodeaux, the founder and artistic director, did with my my little one.<br />
<br />
But for all that, every once and a while I need an extra dose of perspective. Tonight was a great one. We took the girls to see Ballet Magnificat! perform here in Natchez. The show was beautiful, fun and engaging, and it ended with remarkably clear gospel presentation. Stunning dance, seeped and surrounded with a passion for the glory of God. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ceLSBSmYo566-xJhCrd8_Qhieu0CPqcHmTgNWeii3VLjO77vId6YVNgxDVxwAkRIa_KjkQ7upFK77tSqYG1NeZoAYe10V-xiQBqP-oa1fTnvIt-PT4-NjRVfxM_gtTc0epba2g/s1600/IMG_0519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ceLSBSmYo566-xJhCrd8_Qhieu0CPqcHmTgNWeii3VLjO77vId6YVNgxDVxwAkRIa_KjkQ7upFK77tSqYG1NeZoAYe10V-xiQBqP-oa1fTnvIt-PT4-NjRVfxM_gtTc0epba2g/s1600/IMG_0519.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had to have pictures with a few ballerinas </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And that's why I make the haul. So that my kids will be surrounded by people with a passion for the gospel. So that their perception of art won't be the skewed, self-glorifying, cut-throat affair that it can so easily become. So that the will see dancers who are worthy role models, not just because they have good turnout or they can do a dizzying number of pirouettes, but primarily because they love and serve the Lord.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeiqf_Vvpg0ii-wbiDQjBtLilJrdqkJ6vNgcMJgqCQJnND5PTJNj-0JBhT61VUcvYkgugRmJyrt3YpvP_q-vh3GtDbT2inX5u24GnDhAAKEigbdEldS5WVb4lzRRh_5VRbcVnHQ/s1600/Ballerina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeiqf_Vvpg0ii-wbiDQjBtLilJrdqkJ6vNgcMJgqCQJnND5PTJNj-0JBhT61VUcvYkgugRmJyrt3YpvP_q-vh3GtDbT2inX5u24GnDhAAKEigbdEldS5WVb4lzRRh_5VRbcVnHQ/s1600/Ballerina.jpg" height="400" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And, did I mention that they are stunningly beautiful?</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-35934391876998209162014-10-15T22:04:00.000-07:002014-10-15T22:04:10.316-07:00Baby Boy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Yes, it's about 6 months late, but seriously, have you ever had a newborn? No time, people. I haven't mastered art of typing and nursing at the same time. Also, I've been putting off editing these pictures, and have thus been putting off posting them. I'm a pretty modest girl, and birth pictures can be less than. So, now I've finally got some G-rated birth pictures, and some commentary to go along with them. </div>
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I had been feeling a little different all day, and about 9pm on April 3rd I started noticing that the discomfort that is ever present during pregnancy was kind of coming and going. "Patterning," they call it. So I called the midwife and my sister. Andrew went to get groceries, because we seriously had nothing in the house, and Robin and Mom helped me with a last-ditch house clean. The midwife told me to rest while I was waiting. That didn't happen. I was too hyped. I guess it's good I labor pretty quickly, because I never rest in early labor. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkQykB3DjF8xQTqIYbuWZ8lFN2gPTSI17FOTZ9hBYgx-YkG5CH_7sopqLjZ4e3HPnzx3Wo3TPEaRgegQttIbCHSDHGFSiYb89HCKq5iHD0Z2EF0uCkLO4Lb_0xNuGRoRgv1aLdg/s1600/DSC_0347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkQykB3DjF8xQTqIYbuWZ8lFN2gPTSI17FOTZ9hBYgx-YkG5CH_7sopqLjZ4e3HPnzx3Wo3TPEaRgegQttIbCHSDHGFSiYb89HCKq5iHD0Z2EF0uCkLO4Lb_0xNuGRoRgv1aLdg/s1600/DSC_0347.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
I had little gifts for my "birth team." Hey, birth is stressful for everyone. Moms and babies get lots of stuff, but what about all the people that cope with the crazy women and don't sleep all night? I think they deserve some thanks too. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO9iFM6aYHGe7fSJ_3xPYeXLp5mjHDU3vdDMCKJi9M-Y1aqTKv08rCp08fuNLzGD6nAhAAQmd9AUOJ110jygeItpb3AZlQkzt2F_tpdLlBJlKqKDsUbnhuywFUHitH1Wof6eyiwg/s1600/DSC_0346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO9iFM6aYHGe7fSJ_3xPYeXLp5mjHDU3vdDMCKJi9M-Y1aqTKv08rCp08fuNLzGD6nAhAAQmd9AUOJ110jygeItpb3AZlQkzt2F_tpdLlBJlKqKDsUbnhuywFUHitH1Wof6eyiwg/s1600/DSC_0346.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndreiS7eZc_AJ3LhmNQz_1eZtk0fVyMm7gGprqbeQatOaDxdqsVVpNMdDkrPil5LqhnWQo8icKRSgRxn5dHLlPOwSTkqkKAxG4K0F-dNqfwW_UCnsPQgZ-NznZbGTGGCnLkJNPg/s1600/DSC_0351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndreiS7eZc_AJ3LhmNQz_1eZtk0fVyMm7gGprqbeQatOaDxdqsVVpNMdDkrPil5LqhnWQo8icKRSgRxn5dHLlPOwSTkqkKAxG4K0F-dNqfwW_UCnsPQgZ-NznZbGTGGCnLkJNPg/s1600/DSC_0351.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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I carefully timed my contractions 'till the midwife got there. Gotta love smart phones. </div>
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSFhVibTZAx-u81VAuEH4rzyJVZPNdQZqkSH88HYT3VFlJOyUAhZ8p4V-r9gmmIEJpaiDKP_9pASxeH_ChGS9IuHNGbbluUy858r2Z4apC6lgrIn9R7fRdkWOEQQ2FOkIWZ4i89A/s1600/DSC_0353.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></div>
I was pretty far along by the time I settled into the bed room. Andrew was pretty nervous about the whole "have a baby at home" thing, but he was pretty great once it came down to it. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEVWDkqcH_krO3f7sNlvOhUOhA1dsJhapbUSCWOYAqWWuuIvI8uZa1nPDjU5lNRkMJ8G9L-5_xvgo94GEoLhufPIlf4YQP-XYlm678AJE_5YfT-9K5krv9D_Kci8NLoQT1gRfeBA/s1600/DSC_0354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEVWDkqcH_krO3f7sNlvOhUOhA1dsJhapbUSCWOYAqWWuuIvI8uZa1nPDjU5lNRkMJ8G9L-5_xvgo94GEoLhufPIlf4YQP-XYlm678AJE_5YfT-9K5krv9D_Kci8NLoQT1gRfeBA/s1600/DSC_0354.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
I've read alot about "counter pressure" during labor, but never really liked it. I did this time. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsRUXc8L-ve90u7jfFtjC-tVaIIM3IO9XuAfeXXrWxQ3QiJjmiFVj1prtasWucEzv5gB0zBpWlQvyZeDLlxZtRR_bvExFdb8W0eq8nQhVsXMimqgdSCILh43Ns3KrrlOiTGTMjvA/s1600/DSC_0355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsRUXc8L-ve90u7jfFtjC-tVaIIM3IO9XuAfeXXrWxQ3QiJjmiFVj1prtasWucEzv5gB0zBpWlQvyZeDLlxZtRR_bvExFdb8W0eq8nQhVsXMimqgdSCILh43Ns3KrrlOiTGTMjvA/s1600/DSC_0355.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
Mom got the honor of dealing with me while Andrew blew up the pool. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX7VhKP5kS0CR1fQpTq8wnS2XLYWLWtVfW_2vKp1LsKAN4G5gzhaiIzXvhdBEb1YiVI9Tt2kX5XV0tqVs1J7JAzffAdA40gLDe_3yjR1SSxXeh947OBTH9NDSYdsUDLVsqGJDyuQ/s1600/DSC_0357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX7VhKP5kS0CR1fQpTq8wnS2XLYWLWtVfW_2vKp1LsKAN4G5gzhaiIzXvhdBEb1YiVI9Tt2kX5XV0tqVs1J7JAzffAdA40gLDe_3yjR1SSxXeh947OBTH9NDSYdsUDLVsqGJDyuQ/s1600/DSC_0357.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
I didn't really want the tub, but Alina, the midwife, talked me into having them set it up, in case I changed my mind. <br />
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I did. I'm pretty sure I made someone go to Robin's house to get me a swimsuit to borrow. I couldn't find mine. It turned up about a month later in a random box. <br />
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This was probably about midnight. I was in serious labor at this point, and obviously don't care about the rather uncomfortable positions my helpers adopted. </div>
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Little man was a little bit blue. His Aunt Robin caught him.
Andrew held my hands while I screamed in his face. That's love, folks.
I'm a little surprised I didn't bust his eardrums. <br />
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<br />
Momin, as my kids call her, held baby boy while I took a moment to
cope. Alina had discussed something they are calling a "birth pause"
with us during the pregnancy, and I found it very freeing to not feel
like a bad mom the need a moment to come to terms with myself before I
turned my attentions to the baby. Having a baby is seriously intense. <br />
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He was pretty much perfect. Fat and happy. <br />
Still is :-) <br />
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The sisters like the baby. They can't keep their little hands off him. It's pretty cute. <br />
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My kids still have all their great-grandparents, and most of them were able to come see the new addition. These are my grandparents. Grammy had called early Thursday to see if I wanted the girls to some stay there for a few days so I could get some rest. Turns out I had a baby that night.<br />
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This is Andrew's Grandpa Gore<br />
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And this is Pa, Andrew's grandfather Gavin. <br />
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She loves her baby. </div>
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Daddy and his boy. Elijah ADORES Andrew. Every time he sees him the smiles and laughs and is generally super happy. He likes to be held by the milk machine, though. <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-32389161069736841232014-10-11T22:49:00.001-07:002014-10-11T22:49:23.068-07:00Tell Them to Your Children...I attended the lady's conference at church today, the first I have attended in years, to tell the truth. The speaker talked about something that is very close to my heart: legacy. How we all leave behind a legacy for the people that we love, and the value of taking time to pointedly leave a valuable and godly one. She talked about some tangible reminders she has in her home of the things that she and her family have watched God do, and how the give an opportunity for her to share the stories related to them with everyone who sees them.<br />
<br />
Now, I hail from a crowd that is big into legacy, stories, and recounting God's faithfulness to our children. I haven't stayed on the bandwagon for all the ideals and beliefs that I was raised to embrace. I've got a television in my living room, I've been married almost six years and ONLY have three children, and I have spent time sitting in a (*<i>gasp</i>*) classroom learning from professors that held a radically different worldview from me. Notwithstanding, I still have a profound passions for the most fundamental tenet of the Christian homeschool movement: <br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Hear, O Israel, the Lord your God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command to you shall be on your heart. You shall teach them to your children, and when you lie down and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write then on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. </i><br />
Deuteronomy 6:4-9<br />
<br />
Teaching out children about what God has done is the most important thing we as parents can do. He did great things for his people in the Old Testiment, he did incomparably great things for us in the life, death and resurection of Christ, and he has done mighty works for this people, as a whole and as individuals, in the 2000 or so years since. <br />
<br />
October is my favorite time of year. I love the occasional crisp morning, and the "great things are coming" feeling I always get around this time. I feel about fall like most people feel about Christmas. It's also one of my favorite time to dust off some stories about "the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord and the wonders he has done" for my kids. It's time to get ready for Reformation Day. It's the anniversary of the day, October 31, 1531, when Martin Luther nailed the 95 thesis to the door of the Wittenburg chruch and set the world on fire. <br />
<br />
This time of year, I tell this story to my children: <br />
<br />
The world was poised to change.<br />
<br />
In the 1430's Johanas Gutenberg had invented a device -the printing
press- that could reproduce documents and books in a fraction of the time
that had previously been required. This enabled ideas to spread
quicker and further than ever before. Not since the ekklesia of ancient
Greece had the sharing of ideas been so in vogue. Throughout the Middle
Ages, various men had challenged the status quo of Roman Catholicism,
but none if their movements had gained the traction required to
fundamentally shake the power of the Vicar of Christ on earth.<br />
<br />
The power of the the Roman Catholic pope had steadily increased since the early days of Christianity. In 1500, Erasmus was<i> </i>challenging and, frankly, mocking, many of the abuses of Catholic Church, Leonardo deVinci and Michelangelo were creating masterpieces, Christopher Columbus had recently reached previously uncharted lands, and Henry VII was king of England. The Roman church was the most powerful, decadent and corrupt institution in the world. At it's head was Pope Alexander VI, previously Rodrigo de Lanzol-Borgia. Part of a conniving, murdering, powerful family, he famously threw a lavish wedding for his (lying, adulterous, murdering) illegitimate daughter in the Vatican itself. Popes waged wars, loaned money and dictated to kings.<br />
<br />
Three popes later, in 1517, the building of St. Peter's Basilica, combined with a series of wars, had all but drained the papal coffers. The idea was set forth to sell unconditional forgiveness of any sin, called an indulgence, to anyone who wanted to buy one for themselves or a loved one, living or dead. Monks traveled around to poor villages peddling salvation, with catchy slogans like "As soon as the coin in the coffer clings, the soul from Purgatory springs."<br />
<br />
In Wittenburg, Germany, a priest and professor of theology named Martin Luther was not impressed. He wrote out a list of 95 issues he took with the sale of indulgences and nailed it on the door of the church. It was intended the be debated by other academics and hopefully make enough waves to alert the pope to what Luther thought were crimes being done in his name.<br />
<br />
And did it ever make waves. This little document, written at this precise moment of history, set in motion a movement with renewed interest in Christianity as set forth by the writers of the bible, and not as defined by the popes and counsels. A Christianity whose theology was defined by five "Solas:" “Sola Scriptura”
(Scripture Alone); “Sola Gratia” (Grace Alone); “Sola Fide” (Faith Alone);
“Solus Christus” (Christ Alone); and “Soli Deo Gloria” (To God Alone Be
Glory).<br />
<br />
There's more to the story. The world didn't change over night. Luther and those who took up his mantle weren't perfect. My children are young, and probably won't retain more the the bare bones of the story. But they will grow, and I'll tell the story again, year after year. We'll make a printing press, and write in medieval calligraphy, and read Erasmus and Luther and Calvin. They will read and study for themselves, and understand more of the theology and history of Christianity. And some day, God willing, they will pull my grandchildren into their laps and tell them about a man who nailed a piece of paper on the door of a church and changed the world. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-62359952508510925642014-10-08T16:42:00.001-07:002014-10-08T16:42:09.947-07:00Procrastination and PerfectionismI've read that procrastination and perfectionism are often related. One is unwilling to do something if it can't be done perfectly (and honestly, what can?) and therefore procrastinates a task 'till it's either not longer worth doing at all or at it's way to close to the due date and one runs out of time to do it even very well. I've probably got 20 blog posts in various stages on completion, some of which were actually timely or decent when they were written, but their relevance is mostly past. So, I'm resolving to post things that are less that perfect. I love to write, but don't often take the time to put my thoughts down on paper (or, um, webpage) these days, but I'm going to try to use a little self discipline to actually do things that I enjoy and get something out of instead of burning my little bits of not-otherwise-completely-occupied time perusing facebook or looking for more stuff that I don't need on Amazon.<br />
<br />
So anyway. My kids are huge. I have a new(ish) baby, Elijah Caedmon, otherwise known as Baby Superman. When I found out I was expecting a boy, Andrew asked the girls what we should name him. "Ianna" was the first suggestion, followed by "Adelin."<br />
"No, girls, we need a boy name."<br />
"Oh." Ianna replied. "Is Superman a boy name?"<br />
"Well, yeah..."<br />
So that was that. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if you ask the girls, they will still tell that his name is Baby Elijah Superman. <br />
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Isn't he a DOLL?<br />
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Here's out (no longer so little) family. The girls adore their baby
brother, and it's all I can do to keep their little hands off him long
enough for him to sleep. He was 6 months this weekend, and I can't
believe how time has flown. <br /><br />
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Here he is on his 6 month birthday. He's fat, and cute. <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-64063472945810665802013-06-11T13:34:00.001-07:002013-06-11T13:34:43.849-07:00Jesus is LordJesus is Lord!<br />
Jesus is Lord of my home.<br />
He is Lord of the kitchen<br />
and the living room<br />
and of the bedrooms<br />
and of the play room.<br />
<br />
He is Lord of the breakfast dishes<br />
And the pile of laundry<br />
He is Lord of phyiscs and algebra and phonics.<br />
He is Lord of the ABC's<br />
And counting to ten.<br />
He is Lord of everything I love<br />
And whatever I despise. <br />
Jesus is Lord of music<br />
And that makes him<br />
The Lord of scales and chords<br />
And every note we sing<br />
Or song we play.<br />
He is Lord of our words<br />
And of our actions<br />
And our thoughts.<br />
He is Lord of the time to myself I so jealously guard,<br />
Jesus is Lord of all. <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-1310493913627755052012-07-07T11:47:00.000-07:002012-07-07T11:47:41.022-07:00More Birthday Fun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So, I didn't actually post pictures of Adelin's party, or the cake that
took the better part of the day I should have actually been, you know,
shopping for the food I was going to feed the guests and all that. It wasn't as cute as
it was going to be in my head, but it was a lot cuter than some of the
pictures I found when searching for ideas. </div>
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Better late than never, I always say! </div>
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Here's the butter cream icing. I didn't really like it once I got it made. I need a better recipe. </div>
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I started with a 9x13 cake</div>
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Cut it to shape...</div>
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And iced it. </div>
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Here's my "elevation"</div>
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Did you know you can buy fondant already tinted? It's very handy.</div>
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This was supposed to be a naptime project, but someone woke up early and wanted to help.</div>
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Here's the first shoe. I was pretty darn proud of it. </div>
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The second one kind of flopped.</div>
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See?</div>
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Adelin said she didn't care. </div>
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The wonderful thing about fontont: when little fingers mess with the cake,</div>
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it just makes an indentation, not a big, gaping hole. </div>
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Here's the cake table</div>
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Adelin said she didn't care that the top shoe sagged.</div>
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Neither did the other girls, it seems. </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Opening up birthday presents is so much fun!</div>
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She loves it!</div>
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"The only thing is, the grownups keep taking my cool new stuff away and giving me another box to open" </div>
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She had a very happy day. Most of the kids I invited weren't able to come, but who needs kids when there are hordes of doting grandparents to be had? We are very blessed to have most of our families within driving distance. The kids love getting to see their grandparents and great-grandparents all the time! My mom's parents lived close when I was little, and time with them has been SO wonderful over the years. I'm glad my girls will get to experience that too.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-38848104818899081232012-07-06T13:01:00.000-07:002012-07-06T13:01:03.692-07:00BiloxiLast weekend, we went to visit family in Biloxi, and we decided to take a day trip out to Ship Island, so Andrew could fish, and the kids could play on a pretty beach. Everyone was pretty cherry on the boat ride over.<br />
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Ianna wore these glasses the whole weekend, even at night. It's was a little insane.</div>
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She had to lift them up to see. </div>
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Except Adelin. She's pretty mommy-centric these days, and she had to sit with daddy for a minute. <br />
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Ianna was totally set on riding dolphins. There were some around the boat, </div>
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but I don't think she actually knew what they were. She didn't get to ride them though. </div>
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Overall, the trip didn't really work out as planned. Ianna was miserable, because she had to walk all the way across the island, and it was hot. By the time we make it to the beach, Andrew was so exasperated with her whining, he walked into the water with his phone in his pocket. Salt water is not good for phones. You wouldn't believe how much it costs to replace a smart phone. The kids did have a good time playing in the water, though. I didn't get any picture, because I was busy trying to supervise two little people in the water while Andrew was fishing. He only caught nasty catfish that aren't good to eat, though, which is sad. And I got totally baked. Like, a week later, I'm still burned, baked. Not cool. <br />
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The rest of the weekend was good, though. We got lots of visiting, which was nice. Here's a picture of the whole crew at Papaw Tommy's birthday party.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-81091271198995387272012-06-25T12:10:00.000-07:002012-06-25T12:10:00.066-07:00Adelin Turns 1!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think I'll start blogging again. Adelin's first birthday seemed like the perfect come back post :-)<br />
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I can't believe that a whole year has gone by already. She's a sweetheart, and lights up our house with her cheeriness. <br />
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We did her nursery in Ballerinas, so we did a ballerina party. <br />
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Little Prima Dona<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIwgx6FkZAGlrUDAb_8b6EbtX6ZYSjy92zdGwXl_XJMmkwpO3atrE9_SFrNBSP9-L6McEcPEMt0yYoZrmxeCSlKfLl01ApnrEbx7-Z7gmcrTtKN4835UB4pvT2EWGb-1cRqYwnhQ/s1600/DSC_0368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIwgx6FkZAGlrUDAb_8b6EbtX6ZYSjy92zdGwXl_XJMmkwpO3atrE9_SFrNBSP9-L6McEcPEMt0yYoZrmxeCSlKfLl01ApnrEbx7-Z7gmcrTtKN4835UB4pvT2EWGb-1cRqYwnhQ/s320/DSC_0368.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
Hehe. Girls love their shoes :-)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVxomy1ErFDC0eiN1tisocLgRxPBH60vq29Wttp-rc6QM_pcGpnI_xMSFsnJZX_IWdUbaRJ9EwHrI3R1lo7XGckVq6tV8_vI3REIa6SvHXMpzKgOhMmQaBXA_WFBk_H6LjXN8AEA/s1600/DSC_0434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVxomy1ErFDC0eiN1tisocLgRxPBH60vq29Wttp-rc6QM_pcGpnI_xMSFsnJZX_IWdUbaRJ9EwHrI3R1lo7XGckVq6tV8_vI3REIa6SvHXMpzKgOhMmQaBXA_WFBk_H6LjXN8AEA/s320/DSC_0434.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbe5BqLiaHCbm-0H2jGYTpvNoQkZQqo7ZLL-kUJ_jRh3hdUqef1ayC5lVKtB0yH8_NG8gy7Gl69DvusZlSmcW-jq6xw8zvd2MlqYCMg3UZ0R-_Zil8hvuKMENORlHplhlvRrIUbg/s1600/DSC_0426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbe5BqLiaHCbm-0H2jGYTpvNoQkZQqo7ZLL-kUJ_jRh3hdUqef1ayC5lVKtB0yH8_NG8gy7Gl69DvusZlSmcW-jq6xw8zvd2MlqYCMg3UZ0R-_Zil8hvuKMENORlHplhlvRrIUbg/s320/DSC_0426.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
She's a little doll. <br />
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Happy Birthday, Baby Girl!</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-3240420568414816642011-11-12T11:39:00.000-08:002011-11-12T11:52:47.161-08:00SucessWhy are some homeschooling parents sucessful, and some have children that wind up hating everything their parents stand for? It's something I've wondered often through the years, and it's a more relevent question than ever. I've moved past the state of "homeschooled child" and "homeschool graduate" and am not entering the season of "homeschool mom."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-21434343854579487632011-11-12T11:25:00.001-08:002011-11-12T11:38:40.332-08:00New BabyIt's a new baby :-)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5oA8yxs95nW-hwjmmzyhKtjjq95ftqbGJzrLg44YCpf-kjt0LgC7RbbV2jyhqcNQ8AJuIoFYOP9DOQ6Xz0qkBLrD7czoB7GA38BvQ1AdpqAgetsihEm9ig6Rpq9tZxzyHUdJ_xA/s1600/DSC_0032.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5oA8yxs95nW-hwjmmzyhKtjjq95ftqbGJzrLg44YCpf-kjt0LgC7RbbV2jyhqcNQ8AJuIoFYOP9DOQ6Xz0qkBLrD7czoB7GA38BvQ1AdpqAgetsihEm9ig6Rpq9tZxzyHUdJ_xA/s320/DSC_0032.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674194467506296866" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpoOi0wFbXVwbkOWwyDjbOrob7S8p1u-ntr-8xbtJRj6CWCd8kr9wRpgLRlTz-qhVk4TOJ6rYeSQKlOguwvmDN62Q4lUZHJVMf3xz_8C3CkL2WHaTkCBIKBRyts-z7gnoqoWcfcA/s1600/IMG_0019.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpoOi0wFbXVwbkOWwyDjbOrob7S8p1u-ntr-8xbtJRj6CWCd8kr9wRpgLRlTz-qhVk4TOJ6rYeSQKlOguwvmDN62Q4lUZHJVMf3xz_8C3CkL2WHaTkCBIKBRyts-z7gnoqoWcfcA/s320/IMG_0019.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674194465699430018" border="0" /></a>Life is a three ring circus these days!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7eNaS_TCSRN-10JtrCB3xUjD91slit-qf4w9JUk19sv8QYQjqHJHH8gQTi6d9-qhkwO8ces958SRoB__Cc7nFjomvti8FA6cyOjpSZwFngawpzBUxgfZt2Zg6kwP3pN1PzuU9g/s1600/DSC_0020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7eNaS_TCSRN-10JtrCB3xUjD91slit-qf4w9JUk19sv8QYQjqHJHH8gQTi6d9-qhkwO8ces958SRoB__Cc7nFjomvti8FA6cyOjpSZwFngawpzBUxgfZt2Zg6kwP3pN1PzuU9g/s320/DSC_0020.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674194475585444882" border="0" /></a><br />She's completely precious, and almost always nice. Life is wonderful. :-)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-84208941212611448282009-10-15T11:35:00.000-07:002009-10-23T20:53:19.374-07:00New BeginingsA<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">utumn </span>is my favorite time of year. It always seems more like a new <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">beginning</span> time of year than New Years. I don't know why I always feel that way. Every year, on the first cool day, I get a feeling that wonderful things are just around the corner. And as it happens, they often are. Here is this year's wonderful thing :-)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitptRedF8DbTMaCmz73ACTIVr5qLB5bcyCyu9sdSITMjsLCma8AaTF4ISChNLT8qoXT7wJmsNbal18iRUR83JudotWZIrW2UhEOEes42Eg4oAmMoxoqjPircECi8xIOzJdkpkEQg/s1600-h/IannaOnGrammyBlanket.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitptRedF8DbTMaCmz73ACTIVr5qLB5bcyCyu9sdSITMjsLCma8AaTF4ISChNLT8qoXT7wJmsNbal18iRUR83JudotWZIrW2UhEOEes42Eg4oAmMoxoqjPircECi8xIOzJdkpkEQg/s320/IannaOnGrammyBlanket.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392899197945790850" border="0" /></a>It's amazing how much life can change in a year. A three weeks ago, I became a mother. And Wednesday, my little sister became a mother. Talk about unreal.<span style="text-decoration: underline;"> </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvfjeO3-neSOTYtVq3yCr6XU5gzQPUTatUU0Fl9pq-zQJGdoInBWuoTZ4OTYgw_GIhc6UL8ciNEzRCt6B8ktZvJoBwBhhDI6GDVf4RxndAzMdPb8cJFrqnjNcCKUERSnpzGXYQ-Q/s1600-h/MerishaSeeingIanna.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvfjeO3-neSOTYtVq3yCr6XU5gzQPUTatUU0Fl9pq-zQJGdoInBWuoTZ4OTYgw_GIhc6UL8ciNEzRCt6B8ktZvJoBwBhhDI6GDVf4RxndAzMdPb8cJFrqnjNcCKUERSnpzGXYQ-Q/s320/MerishaSeeingIanna.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392899190782159058" border="0" /></a><br />The moment they put my baby in my arms was perhaps the most surreal of my life. Just looking at the picture overwhelms me with emotion. I couldn't get my mind around the fact that she was MINE. A little soul to cherish, train, love, and show the way to the Saviour. It's a little scary. Now, after a lifetime of watching other people raise children, and trying to figure out why some things work and some don't, I'm the parent. It a awesome, overwhelming, and humbling thing.<br /><br />We named the baby <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Ianna</span> Lynn. People keep asking where we got the name. Well, we got it from that most <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">un</span>-romantic of places, a baby name book. But it's like this. Most of the names we both liked were fairly common, like Elisabeth or Victoria, and we wanted something a little unusual. We also kind of wanted something that reflected our <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">families</span>' heritage, which for both of us is mostly Scottish, German and English. And last, but not least, we wanted something with a meaning more profound then "dark-haired girl". <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Ianna</span> is Scottish, and it means "God is gracious".<br /><br />A few hours after <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Ianna</span> was born I was laying in my room, thinking about the events of the day. Poor Andrew was trying to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">sleep</span>, but I had a thousand things to say. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning Andrew told me that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Ianna</span> was born with her cord wrapped around her head, her body, and her neck. Thank God, she was fine, there weren't any related complications. "I think we picked a good name, Love" Andrew said. And as I lay there, with my mind racing, I thought about the totally amazing, painful, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">altogether</span> overwhelming <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">experience</span> of giving birth, I agreed. Things couldn't have gone much better. My labor was short, and without complication, and the people I loved the most were there to share it with me. My nurses and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">dola</span> were wonderful, and I felt like everyone there contributed something that I needed. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKDyHkBwSVV7h1EspDe_dGaqHf9dm2Zuw4YP8xyKNzjn4krICy_a6Z-p7pFDIHjlXBGZhxqjmjmqHEhrn4x0G_SzT5z0Sd2OhKSFzj-fV60NRHk2S6MUNYvSbdqBmVGxs0Td7GcQ/s1600-h/RobinAndMerishaInLabor.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKDyHkBwSVV7h1EspDe_dGaqHf9dm2Zuw4YP8xyKNzjn4krICy_a6Z-p7pFDIHjlXBGZhxqjmjmqHEhrn4x0G_SzT5z0Sd2OhKSFzj-fV60NRHk2S6MUNYvSbdqBmVGxs0Td7GcQ/s320/RobinAndMerishaInLabor.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392899183359379026" border="0" /></a>Here's Robin contributing some much needed laughter. She declared that the chairs were uncomfortable. (And they are, as I found our Wednesday. I was not invited to join her on the bed when she was the one in it, though ;-) )<br /><br />So anyway,<span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span></span></span>I'm sure I'll have more to say on the subject sometime. And for now, I'll leave you with some more pictures.<br /><br /> Here is Ianna with Selina two weeks ago:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjHYLt-NF3dBl5bLS50qSwqvCzOZy8UeLbNxAr5vXp9INF6nRJ5WWtA0LbR6RiXgTSwu4aa0o2wgacWMouCN8HSUdJn5VbiRisBuW1U23fJG6Lwa8w3viTISijv-D1SwE1fkNxSg/s1600-h/IannaandRobin.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjHYLt-NF3dBl5bLS50qSwqvCzOZy8UeLbNxAr5vXp9INF6nRJ5WWtA0LbR6RiXgTSwu4aa0o2wgacWMouCN8HSUdJn5VbiRisBuW1U23fJG6Lwa8w3viTISijv-D1SwE1fkNxSg/s320/IannaandRobin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392899180487951826" border="0" /></a><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span>And yesterday. Neither one of them look to happy, but they wouldn't both be awake, fed and happy at the same time.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLzmB0g5ZdhSSXR73jkw6VvaiTko7vfNKmO-iIKYa0UiZ86D1Glo0JYefOC2r54Ul74H4vgfiSBzsOiE0YzC0mjvozsGMZhrj7R6FEQsNy_33W_K36tZGBs0qO9llE1g5C-zIiAA/s1600-h/IannaSelinaUnhappy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLzmB0g5ZdhSSXR73jkw6VvaiTko7vfNKmO-iIKYa0UiZ86D1Glo0JYefOC2r54Ul74H4vgfiSBzsOiE0YzC0mjvozsGMZhrj7R6FEQsNy_33W_K36tZGBs0qO9llE1g5C-zIiAA/s320/IannaSelinaUnhappy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396005987891982482" border="0" /></a><br />For some reason this one decided to come out small. Oh well, it's still cute.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsq0SyqAEa82Qsjn7yKERcoD6I4A1pXN1l6VBVu2j7BkMhYQT-HPxsuil6xfzfzJbYontEu5y_aOmNavXwCM45jSWxBkVi4E1i4aMQoa4WOJ4vapa0fuzCoVatRYY9ghvYENBKA/s1600-h/Robin'sLittleFamily.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 97px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsq0SyqAEa82Qsjn7yKERcoD6I4A1pXN1l6VBVu2j7BkMhYQT-HPxsuil6xfzfzJbYontEu5y_aOmNavXwCM45jSWxBkVi4E1i4aMQoa4WOJ4vapa0fuzCoVatRYY9ghvYENBKA/s320/Robin'sLittleFamily.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396005985350960850" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And here's my little family. So yeah, I'm pretty much the most blessed woman in the world :-)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvSBISMuchZOXnQafb-d60zt0SwVfC6FXXiy8kOlHULSyCkvjSEa7AaiJIiLiJ1CICOJ9la0dNJc961V-gQJHAj6jA27Im44znHu4qr_nwof4WSFnM5UPwZg8eiSmO1HvBMIJRoQ/s1600-h/NewLittleFamily.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvSBISMuchZOXnQafb-d60zt0SwVfC6FXXiy8kOlHULSyCkvjSEa7AaiJIiLiJ1CICOJ9la0dNJc961V-gQJHAj6jA27Im44znHu4qr_nwof4WSFnM5UPwZg8eiSmO1HvBMIJRoQ/s320/NewLittleFamily.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396005986400352738" border="0" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-40700074096396078762009-03-27T14:18:00.001-07:002009-04-22T09:19:12.883-07:00Baby Picture and Maturnity Clothes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3QEEmHVe9hyphenhyphenqy_14kVx182WayppO7BFyryEg3cs8sg6-6bOxGwLKdhC5v_IWKfC9VR8oUjiBxP4CSFMqShQxbSQ8Py5kg8l0e1vlquAvmA2fQsO_jTvORPCG4lgOsXr3cgudNwg/s1600-h/baby+picture.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 237px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3QEEmHVe9hyphenhyphenqy_14kVx182WayppO7BFyryEg3cs8sg6-6bOxGwLKdhC5v_IWKfC9VR8oUjiBxP4CSFMqShQxbSQ8Py5kg8l0e1vlquAvmA2fQsO_jTvORPCG4lgOsXr3cgudNwg/s320/baby+picture.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327547905955111890" border="0" /></a><br />I've had two sonograms now. This is the first one. It was amazing to see the little bitty baby looking like -well - a baby! It's was about an inch long, but it was amazing that it already looked distinctly human.<br /><br />I'm done with my first trimester! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">YAY</span>!! I feel better, and I'm starting to not fit into my clothes. Robin and I broke out the box of clothes we dubbed the "Too Big for Us Box, May it Live forever". That just sounded better than "May it Live 'Till We Get Pregnant". One way or another, they are no longer too big. One perk to not fitting in anything you own: you get to go clothes shopping. Which is always fun. And on top of getting a whole new wardrobe, you get to buy fun baby things. I love buying baby things. They are all so CUTE!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhDL0xhu6LpvEsXoNU88RSCca5ZQxc3W4EpM9Js5dsMttGdYFA8FmzN1cYymKxRDxaPnJVCbMK40vAsiuFju664EZ8zCQGm7hmt9Zu3veTDW7fbQeZ44j0QkpiYpZ0wYRhO1hXNQ/s1600-h/sonogram.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhDL0xhu6LpvEsXoNU88RSCca5ZQxc3W4EpM9Js5dsMttGdYFA8FmzN1cYymKxRDxaPnJVCbMK40vAsiuFju664EZ8zCQGm7hmt9Zu3veTDW7fbQeZ44j0QkpiYpZ0wYRhO1hXNQ/s320/sonogram.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327550641243287138" border="0" /></a><br />While I've even seen pictures and all that good stuff, it still hasn't really sunk in that I'm really having a baby. I mean, when I was younger I always talked about "When I'm married and have kids", but I can't quite believe that it's really real!<br /><br />But two sonograms, three months of being more or less sick and a growing belly all bear <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">testament</span> to the fact that it is all really, indeed real. So, on that note, I'm going to go clean house so I can clean out the spare room so Baby will have a place to live when it gets here :-)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-76682754580052917252009-01-30T08:25:00.000-08:002009-03-17T11:47:43.110-07:00Wedding and SuchSo many things have happened the past year. My blog has been totally neglected, and I doubt if anyone even bothers to check it anymore. Every time something of note happens I thing "I should blog about this" but there are so many important un-bloged-about things that it seems that I can't post about the latest life changing event till I post about all of the preceding events.<br /><br />I can't believe I have been married more than 2 months! Time is flying so fast.<br /><br />It's funny, really. My wedding went off without any major glitches, but I keep having dreams that for some reason we have to have another ceremony and SOMETHING is always a disaster in these dreams. Last night Robin was talking while the preacher was trying to talk. I thought you were supposed to quit having wedding disaster dreams after the wedding was over...<br /><br />The real life wedding though, was wonderful. It really was a little surreal. I remember Kevin saying that he didn't remember much of the sermon from his wedding, and I thought "I"m listening. I'm even paying attention. I think I'm doing pretty well." But, as it happens, that is practically the only thing I remember him saying. Oh well. Fortunately, I have a video coming, so I'll be able to hear all the good advice and maybe retain more of it.<br /><br />But for all the blur, there are some things that stick out clearly in my mind. My dad calling me out of the brideroom to practice pulling my veil back. Teary eyed, I might add.<br /><br />Gramy comming into the Bride Room saying that Grandpy was asking to see me. When he came in he was teared up. He hugged me tight. "I wish you all the happiness in the world, Darlin'. You deserve it." He almost made me cry.<br /><br />The image of my poor bridesmaids shivering outside the church won't be forgotten. I felt bad, 'cause I had a nice warm cape and they were all huddled up together. It was windy too. My veil and train were a mess coming into the church. And there was something wrong with that darn doorway. My train snagged on it and my veil got caught. One side came unattached from the flowers in my hair, and I was very glad that Sarah and Mom had pinned the flowers in so well.<br /><br />Right after we said our vows I knelt next to the love of my life and we partook of the first Holy Communion of our married life, a visible symbol of our unity with Chirst and his Church. I was swept away in the utter beauty of the moment. Some of our dear friends and my dear sister were singing "The Lord Bless you and Keep You", and they sounded heavenly. That moment defined my wedding for me. We were had been joined in the holy bonds of marriage, and we knlet there together before God, and it was perfect.<br /><br />Another precious moment was as I was coming out of the room where the cake was, I stopped and gave a hug to one of my great uncles who had come in from out of town. His wife died recently, after a long bout with leukemia. He seemed to be doing well, and he gave me the most touching good wishes of the day. "Well I hope you marriage is as good as ours was, except that it lasts longer."<br /><br />All in all, everyone was wonderful, my wedding party (especially my sister) pulled all the little details off wonderfully and it was the happiest day of my life.<br /><br />And for all the questioners who ask "So, how's married life?"<br /><br />It's wonderful. In some ways it seems a little unreal. I've always known what I wanted to do with my life, and now that I'm doing it it seems like it can't really be me. But on the other hand, it seems like the most natural thing in the world to meet Andrew every evening when he gets home from work, and to fix his meals and wake up every morning beside him. I'm loving each little season right now, and learning that none of them last forever, and they all have joys and trials, and that they are all wonderful in their own way. I miss some old seasons, and I'm looking forward to some coming up, but I love our little time of "just the two of us"<br /><br />I felt that I simply had to post all this today, because tomorrow I have my first doctor's appointment for Baby, who will be here in late October, and I might have related thing to say :-)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-2679174321569224882008-04-16T15:21:00.000-07:002008-04-17T11:23:16.769-07:00St. Louis and SuchSo I'm informed that I never post. Which has been mostly true I'm afraid. So to make up for lost time I'll post some pictures of what I've been up to for the past three months or so.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoLiVfQZmeHfHZkf191QUeKjISzRxagUnsKYWtnb476ScA3Lf9EZQMjQAIZN5MlbMG7cKbQ27dFLn6Mdwr7xt8eV6VHef8bqBH3ssDbo3_VfLkzcveaf9Y2CI5AV06rK5E4uOWig/s1600-h/IMG_0746.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189982142076847058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoLiVfQZmeHfHZkf191QUeKjISzRxagUnsKYWtnb476ScA3Lf9EZQMjQAIZN5MlbMG7cKbQ27dFLn6Mdwr7xt8eV6VHef8bqBH3ssDbo3_VfLkzcveaf9Y2CI5AV06rK5E4uOWig/s320/IMG_0746.jpg" border="0" /></a> This is what I did. I was in St. Louis from the beginning of February until last week with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Capasso's</span>. Elise is the mom and the children, from left to right, are <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ilenia</span>, Viviana and Isabella.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFE2jsp3xDV4-ZqwuitleH1brwuYPwe-iwCc587wFLP1CycrkqLcDe8FULzLJYiRIE7BrxOZvpk2PGwC6d1waRBU84l_bvpmgK73qsPz8Qbx5PlmdswMjpNUaCv51cYPlDpBkBjQ/s1600-h/IMG_0581.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189976137712567154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFE2jsp3xDV4-ZqwuitleH1brwuYPwe-iwCc587wFLP1CycrkqLcDe8FULzLJYiRIE7BrxOZvpk2PGwC6d1waRBU84l_bvpmgK73qsPz8Qbx5PlmdswMjpNUaCv51cYPlDpBkBjQ/s320/IMG_0581.jpg" border="0" /></a>This is me with the two older <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Capasso</span> girls, Isabella and Viviana. We are freezing. I did a lot of that... </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjICrLigS0MvKmR-GQzpuLdCmqFnY_rfDNt1wbGI4h8OY61MMO1EY3s0LIFd9X1gjm6akw9bs8cIgRByXZ6Dun3pxK7wFF8_NTD5GFqAoguEplygQK9kp61se_oonqT8-j3dDgMAA/s1600-h/IMG_0594.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189976146302501762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjICrLigS0MvKmR-GQzpuLdCmqFnY_rfDNt1wbGI4h8OY61MMO1EY3s0LIFd9X1gjm6akw9bs8cIgRByXZ6Dun3pxK7wFF8_NTD5GFqAoguEplygQK9kp61se_oonqT8-j3dDgMAA/s320/IMG_0594.jpg" border="0" /></a><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ilenia</span> didn't like the cold too much...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUYxjPR0-2csigYXzgjSJi2nvgmHtO22XnmWh-4j0kSIqWrOaIYDRGqJ0DjbgqZrTa5ig1EgS0g675s800aP4_JsVvJPNNLOhkLXo8hT1uj8APmGehnHPcLtVbSFdeU3oaIP-Dig/s1600-h/IMG_0621.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189976154892436370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUYxjPR0-2csigYXzgjSJi2nvgmHtO22XnmWh-4j0kSIqWrOaIYDRGqJ0DjbgqZrTa5ig1EgS0g675s800aP4_JsVvJPNNLOhkLXo8hT1uj8APmGehnHPcLtVbSFdeU3oaIP-Dig/s320/IMG_0621.jpg" border="0" /></a>How about that sled? </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0EY1KniJSBWj15aOWSHsIjAGnUq7_4T009stuuk7fUFMtz8kVk9z_3PD2FHazFnY0HjIQa3WKoiGX5bs80B9qhK0o1NXMUdxwimpvMUqjENpFhmKEvZgxrZu74qAITshVagupng/s1600-h/IMG_0813.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189976167777338290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0EY1KniJSBWj15aOWSHsIjAGnUq7_4T009stuuk7fUFMtz8kVk9z_3PD2FHazFnY0HjIQa3WKoiGX5bs80B9qhK0o1NXMUdxwimpvMUqjENpFhmKEvZgxrZu74qAITshVagupng/s320/IMG_0813.jpg" border="0" /></a> We make bread (<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Translation</span>: I made bread with the cute, but rather unhelpful help of three year old Vivi) I thought this picture of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Ilenia</span> was too cute. </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189982133486912450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13N5JHSeEiU01srHo96MPdS7FURNWi2HJwbwDg3zhwytF30EHTUfV-oSwg3gcSHBUIhf3HPjuuwAGHlHEQetUxXGD2Tys3r2-ahPbIkmoTUPV82Gv4WYYYzZYJTOlA5aNgMmMsA/s320/IMG_0667.jpg" border="0" />Andrew came to see me and took this very cute picture with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Ilenia</span>.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189982163551683570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL7Eh91SI9efonexP4ASrPjrAKEZTRxyeifQoiDleSZlRiUKWSRT06nwRv93vg-hFvdClKc8OkzvZAUXr54lKLT7LuTKaX1maP1WxB8_0n5ES4z3nL89iYPoKJcFMOB6Rt5NLBsQ/s320/IMG_0768.jpg" border="0" />We took a road trip to Chicago and visited some friendly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">nursery</span> rhyme characters.<br /><br /><p></p><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189982150666781666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMJI5_7U4ICfPS0QCevpn1-j6NjjpehT0qhBW-ZeYHrTQJL1tP_qlVPKgIwPQc_9AaxJJknoK1zxBFncbAXYu2UzZac2m-l5jT4GGvjFR7Q2CJMrdiaYehZzlVWZhSKx0w0vvHMw/s320/IMG_0685.jpg" border="0" />Me in Chicago.</p><p></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicLyW_Bu7k7SuX0SSQx2ZoT6rLY4NwvQho_IArHWgJuVQQ4thiu4P1sTjFDGl_Ua6C9TOyUbKc9qsOuHn_Tk7Jjqsrd-QXzMdvFPXvLreDgP3QeIb79ShQdFYXh5a5ZTdAl9AR7A/s1600-h/IMG_0785.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189990680471831570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicLyW_Bu7k7SuX0SSQx2ZoT6rLY4NwvQho_IArHWgJuVQQ4thiu4P1sTjFDGl_Ua6C9TOyUbKc9qsOuHn_Tk7Jjqsrd-QXzMdvFPXvLreDgP3QeIb79ShQdFYXh5a5ZTdAl9AR7A/s320/IMG_0785.jpg" border="0" /></a> This is Easter. It snowed. It was insane.<br /><br /><p></p><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189982172141618178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvb01uai7nLB5HxqUoPn7BY6QQrV12W1BEe0VgPRIVqkGV1wYqwivOW8wd-Cys37Sc_Xjfj8KcoK9UqdGNhUcQTwZZlmPnBZ3vUwguS2X7mVBJ26PljOCKo-i2fuhsL9XP_0a0MA/s320/IMG_0820.jpg" border="0" />These are the flowers Elise informed everyone Andrew sent her for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Easter</span>. But he didn't. He sent them to me :-)</p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189990697651700802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpO3SCYRAadEJ9EpXh28AuiXC2TMU11sCW8-yxDrC7wokANhX-Uu11Dyd9wA-T8NLyBwNCqf1ij1MZdEJevSGoZNXg7N266bGzQp9zFfnKFMPfC2At1cCDcf2iis-HlwWKq1DpQg/s320/IMG_0845.jpg" border="0" /> Me and my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Tissy</span>. I managed a short visit to see the McDonald's while I was up North.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjI3HZ7OoOzUo3RgBA6w4bHZFIvf9WomnlTcKUPth4OepHni1_isGf1eDOe9V1yNBMKcmkFsinQaPwm6wF6XIxHwNbeE63X_QtmzwkpZFlmFIWi98hyphenhyphenZgxYt2m6C7OFAWKeI8qA/s1600-h/IMG_0848.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189990693356733490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjI3HZ7OoOzUo3RgBA6w4bHZFIvf9WomnlTcKUPth4OepHni1_isGf1eDOe9V1yNBMKcmkFsinQaPwm6wF6XIxHwNbeE63X_QtmzwkpZFlmFIWi98hyphenhyphenZgxYt2m6C7OFAWKeI8qA/s320/IMG_0848.jpg" border="0" /></a> :-D<br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189990706241635410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHwZs9-tgHixYeRENYSlvZkxGB1yGvcopmLEHg2d1tQeMooYhiceBEL2BhuoZ4iRRY6PvWP7rjOET4g8MO3DHyPyvHq2-f5LUwPXGcPJRhXUcgannnsm6gJrcQvhimqElM6g26mg/s320/IMG_0884.jpg" border="0" />Viviana is a sweetheart. She was the only one of the girls that didn't have an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">aversion</span> to the camera that day.</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-2592370448096139972008-02-18T15:54:00.002-08:002008-02-18T16:05:26.241-08:00I'm Alive!Just so all my dear readers (all three of you) know, I'm still alive. I'm just in St. Louis until April 15 with not much time to blog, alas! Actually, I have posted since Christmas, but Blogger hates me and insists that I wrote that post in November. So anyway, that's where my latest post is. It's titled "Growing Up". Just in case you care. If you don't, why are you here? Just a thought...<br /><br />So anyway. Maybe sometime I'll actually have something to say next time I post. Until then, Adiu!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-34433935202808200892008-01-01T14:49:00.000-08:002008-04-17T15:16:41.493-07:00Growing UpGrowing up is a strange thing. When I was a child my mom would sing a line from some song that went "Life used to be so simple, but it's not simple anymore." I remember <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">analyzing</span> that and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">thinking</span> "When was life simple? I don't think life's ever been simple." And really, mine never was. The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">complexities</span> of life started to show out about the time I was four, and things haven't been simple since. I remember hearing people talk about childlike faith and wondering what was so wonderful about childhood. I figured I must have missed out on whatever that magical childhood was that everyone talked about.I remember thinking when I was about 10 that I had filled my quota of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">difficulty</span> and was entitled to have everything go my way from than on. But from the vantage point of 21 (gosh, a I that old already?) I can see that there is a quality trust <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">inherent</span> in childhood that is precious. As children we believe things <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">because</span>... well <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">because</span> someone we trust said so. And that's enough. It's a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">scary</span> place to be when it's no longer enough that Mom or the preacher said so. I now understand why so many young people lose their way. The old <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">standards</span> of judging truth aren't there anymore. Unless one believes that if God says it that's enough, one could fall very far indeed. It has frightened me at times to see how far I could stray from <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">everything</span> I hold dear. I have looked at myself and been <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">terrified</span> at what I saw. I have seen that I, in and of myself am unable to fully trust in what I believe. I have clung to the hand of my father, and seen that I wasn't strong enough to hold on. I have known that he was holding me, that his grip was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">stronger</span> on me then mine could ever be on him. And I have been given the strength to hold on by his grace, one day at a time.<br /><br /><br />Something I love to ponder is the beauty of each season of life. There is the complete dependence of a new baby, and the wonder of a little child just starting to explore the world, asking always "What's that?" There is something that makes me smile about a ten year old learning to hold adult conversations and talk about important things.<br /><br /><br />There is youth, a season when anything seems possible, when we are willing to risk everything in hopes of being movers and shakers. I guess beause it's my area to explore right now, I'm <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">partial</span> to youth. There is a zeal to it that I find <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">fascinating</span>. Through much of history it has been young people that have changed the world. There was a line that struck me as I was watching Amazing Grace recently. One young man said to his friend "We're too young to realize that <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">certain</span> thing cannot be done. And we can do them." And they did. These two young men, William Pit and William Wilberforce, where the movers and shakers of their day. They changed the world. Often, when we are young, the price that would daunt someone with more <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">knowledge</span> of the world seems payable to us. I wonder if perhaps that's why God set things up that most people fall in love and marry in this season. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Because</span> by 40 we see all the risk that's involved in loving someone, and perhaps we'd be less willing to venture into something so very... risky.<br /><br /><br />I think the same may be true of friendships. There is something different about the friendships that someone very young and someone older. I look and my grandmother and the friends she's had all her life and those she's made since she was middle aged. It's just not the same. And frankly, I can understand that. I've never spent the night crying over anyone I didn't love. But it's still worth it. I guess I'm still young enough not to care.<br /><br />And yet again, there are the seasons of Middle and old age. Honestly, I don't really understand these seasons. I can see that my the time one has reached these seasons one has gained wisdom. The preacher Sunday said <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">something</span> that I think might sum up some of the blessings of having spent one's youth. He said "I'm 68 years old. One of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">advantages</span> I have that you young people don't have is that I've lived most of my life, and I can tell you that God is always faithful. See, you still have your lives ahead of you and you don't <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">know</span> what it's going to hold. But I know that God is always faithful." It reminded me of the words of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Psalmist</span>. "I have been young and now I am old, but I have not seen the righteous forsaken..."<br /><br />So I guess that's pretty much it. As I look over this past year, I can see that God is faithful. And I guess that thing called faith comes in when I look at the coming year and say "God will be faithful." So happy New Year, everyone.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-69968602209786573292007-12-25T19:26:00.001-08:002007-12-25T21:49:54.023-08:00God With UsWell, it's that time again. It's Christmas. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Somehow</span> it's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">sunk</span> up on me this year, I'm not quite sure how. It's not like there haven't been obnoxious Santa <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">advertisements</span> blaring every time I turn on the radio for the past month. But some how the "Christmas Spirit" seems to have passed me by. I realized a few weeks ago that I had missed the first Sunday of Advent, and than boom! Christmas has come and nearly gone. But I'm sitting back and thinking, thinking about the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">mystery</span> of God With Us, and I'm reminded of the first chapter of John.<br /><br />IN the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">beginning</span> was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">beginning</span> with God. All things where make through Him, and without Him nothing was make that was make. In Him was life, and that life was the light of Men. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">beheld</span> His glory, the glory as of the Only <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Begotten</span> of the Father, full of grace and truth. He came unto his own and His own <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">received</span> Him not. But to as many as <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">received</span> Him to them He gave the right to become the children of God, even to those that believe in His name.<br /><br />The world has no problem with "Baby God" in a manger, all cute and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">cuddly</span>. It likes angels and shepherds and Wise Men. But what seems to be forgotten is that that cute baby in a manger claimed to be God Himself. And not only that, but the only God. A holy, just and jealous God who will suffer no rival. The Alpha and Omega, first and last. That is a problem. That's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">insensitive</span>. That has a very "<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">I'm</span> right and you're wrong" ring.<br /><br />On another note, I'm thinking about Mary. Something I've <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">realized</span> is that God didn't shower Mary's path with roses. Why did God choose just that way to bring his son into the world? Why the stigma of an unwed mother? Jesus would deal with snide remarks about his parentage for his whole life. This was a world where a woman's purity was her <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">greatest</span> treasure. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">According</span> to the Law her purity was to be all but announced from the rooftops on her wedding night. But here was Mary, who everyone knew wasn't married, pregnant. Why wasn't God more interested in saving face than that? I wonder how many nights she wept <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">because</span> of the things people said, or perhaps <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">because</span> the people she loved treated her <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">differently</span>.<br /><br />But than again, I wonder how many nights she stayed awake <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">marveling</span> at the life inside her and wondering what it all meant. Could she has fathomed that this little baby living in her womb was God Himself? She knew that He would save His people from their sins. But I wonder if she had any inkling of just how much that meant. I wonder if she knew that this Child would change the world, that he would <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">reign</span> literally forever. I wonder. There was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">short lived</span> heartache, but in the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">scheme</span> of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">eternity</span>, what did it signify? I would think if anything, it only served to make her her more <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">dependant</span> on God.<br /><br />And I think of what that all means to me. How many times in my life to I forget the long term gain in view of the short term trails? Sometimes I forget the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Creator</span> if the Universe is in the equation. He is God, and He is with us. Thank God, He is with us.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-895023028806517402007-11-22T18:11:00.000-08:002007-11-22T18:38:59.397-08:00Give ThanksWell, I don't have much time for a long well thought out Thanksgiving post. So I'll be brief.<br /><br /> On Sunday we where all eating in the fellowship hall and the pastor asked us to go around the table and share what we where most thankful for. I had a little time to think, and I decided that most of all I'm thankful that He who has begun a good work in me will complete it. I'm thankful that He's still working on me. I'm thankful for all the things I've wanted and he hasn't given me. I'm thankful and he is supremely wise and completely <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">sovereign</span>. I'm so very grateful that he chose to love and save me, in spite of everything that I am and everything I've done.<br /><br />When I look at the plight of so many people in the world I am struck at how blessed I am to be in this great, though flawed country. I know that the price of our way of life is very high, and I'm thankful for everyone that has paid that price, for those first P<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ilgrims</span> that stepped off the Mayflower, and the men that died at Bunker Hill, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Gettysburg</span> and Normandy Beach. And I'm thankful for the boys that are still fighting today.<br /><br />I'm so blessed with my friends and family. God has given me people that I can laugh with and cry with. He's given me people who challenge me to be holy, sometimes by what they say and do, and sometimes just by being there and praying for me and giving me someone to pray for.<br /><br />God's been good to me. He would still be good if I had none of the things I've listed... But I'm glad He decided to give them anyway.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-10524271070087528122007-10-18T16:24:00.000-07:002007-10-18T17:44:59.004-07:00Psalm 139<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpnU8fCZrYXVHj-2M1ZXA0ySlrvU86BZZKi198ziCOxUfpJR2WIJmWTC6fLZxxvvUaS2kDehktB8CPn3rk-beTx7m3cqVNuZIWhrTx3isUjP4_fyJJql6fQKLzkNgNNY4TCMhsIQ/s1600-h/davenciwomb.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122842149262890114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpnU8fCZrYXVHj-2M1ZXA0ySlrvU86BZZKi198ziCOxUfpJR2WIJmWTC6fLZxxvvUaS2kDehktB8CPn3rk-beTx7m3cqVNuZIWhrTx3isUjP4_fyJJql6fQKLzkNgNNY4TCMhsIQ/s320/davenciwomb.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div>To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David.<br /><br />O LORD, you have searched me and known me!<br />You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar.<br />You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways.<br />Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether.<br />You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.<br />Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it.<br />Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence?<br />If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!<br />If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,<br />even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.<br />If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,"<br />even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.<br />For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb.<br />I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.<br />My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.<br />Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there were none of them.<br />How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!<br />If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you.<br />Oh that you would slay the wicked, O God! O men of blood, depart from me!<br />They speak against you with malicious intent; your enemies take your name in vain!<br />Do I not hate those who hate you, O LORD? And do I not loathe those who rise up against you?<br />I hate them with complete hatred; I count them my enemies.<br />Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts!<br />And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting! </div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-89072377478998452462007-10-03T17:58:00.000-07:002007-10-03T18:01:49.945-07:00ArtThis is an online art album I compliled some time ago, but I couldn't figure out how to put it on my blog as it is, so you'll have to the host site to view it. I hope you enjoy it!<br /><a href="http://art-albums.com/albums/detail.aspx?album=03d252a6-aa85-408e-9971-0c5c09bffe04">http://art-albums.com/albums/detail.aspx?album=03d252a6-aa85-408e-9971-0c5c09bffe04</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19500337.post-78808401443067749062007-09-17T14:54:00.000-07:002007-09-17T15:25:05.944-07:00CharacterMy friend Brooke needed some people to answer some questions relating to character for a school project and asked me to take her little survey. I thought I might as well post my musings.<br /><br />What does the word “character” mean to you?<br />Someone's morals, virtues or lack thereof and disposition.<br /><br />On a scale of 1 to 5, how important is character in life?5Is character necessary for success in life?<br /><br />Yes. For example, if you do not manifest the character trait of honesty it will be a serious impediment to success in any area of life.<br />Where does character matter? (Home, office, school, other)Character is important in all areas of life. It is necessary in home life, in the workplace and socially.<br /><br />How can a person build character?<br />Character, or at least the appearance of it can be developed by self-interest and pride motivating the exercise of self-control, generosity and honesty, among others. Sometimes we are persuaded that the appearance of these things will make us appear to others as better person, and sometimes it is for our own fulfillment and peace of mind. True character, however, is only available thought the work of the Holy Sprit and his power that enables us to cultivate these virtues for his glory and not ours.<br /><br />Name 3 of the most important character qualities.<br />Honesty, compassion and justice.<br /> How do you evaluate your own character or that of your family?<br /><br />My natural tendency is to evaluate other's character in light of how it effects me, and my own in light of it's negative or positive effects on my circumstances or state of mind. This is however a very fallible gage of character. Another way that I often tend to evaluate character is my comparison, comparing myself and my family to others. The only accurate cannon for character evaluation however is the bible.<br /><br />How do you evaluate the character of others?<br />Discrimination is the area of character is necessary. Reputation is a common barometer of character, but it is not always accurate. While it is wise to consider someone's reputation in interacting with them, I rarely draw conclusions based on it. I evaluate character of different people differently, depending on what degree of intimacy I have or am considering having with them. In business relationships I evaluate only the character qualities that apply to business, and rely mainly on reputation and the quality of their work. In casual friendship I consider reputation and my own perception as to how a given relationship is likely to effect my own character, based on the consideration that bad company ruins good morals, (1Co 15:33) that he who walks with the wise will become wise but that the companion of fools suffers harm, (Pro 13:20) and that you are judged my the company you keep. It is well in choosing friends to consider if the person you are evaluating fits the biblical description of a wise person or a fool. Character must also be considered in closer relationships. I consider someone’s honesty and trustworthiness before confiding in them. These considerations are more important with increasing closeness in a relationship and the amount of trust entailed.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14192611014291858142noreply@blogger.com2